Boredom and idleness are a terrible scourge for someone who uses scout spiders, receiving information via a mental link. No, seriously, as they say, jokes aside. The thing is this.
Saturday, a beautiful winter day, good weather outside, brilliant white snow covers everything around, the rascal, preventing outdoor exercise. Just like in previous days—went outside, checked the weather, no one has trampled new paths, and running through the snow, sinking in, is a thankless task. Of course, Elven movement skills, which seem to me the most extensive layer of the shard's "knowledge," would allow walking on the surface of the snow like a water strider on the surface of water, but that goes way beyond the competence of a student not just of the fourth year, but of Hogwarts in general. So, I turned around and headed back to the castle—to run up the stairs of the Main Tower and do Elven "gymnastics" in an unused classroom.
But all this is lyrics, and the evil lies in the details. The fact is that Saturday turned out to be a rather boring day for me personally. All students, my comrades, acquaintances, and even opponents—haven't grown into enemies yet—everyone was occupied strictly and solely with the upcoming ball. Preparation, polishing nuances, jitters, talk-talk-talk. This mixture of enthusiasm, excitement, embarrassment, agitation, and banal fear is too much for me. Yes, I was also subject to exactly the same emotions, because for me, Hector Granger, a whole person living right now, such events are a novelty, and shard memories are just shard memories—no matter how many movies you watch about various balls and social events, it won't make you fully experienced in this matter. But the fact that these memories can be called experience one way or another reduces the intensity of my personal passions, which makes all this commotion around seem overly fussy, loud, hypertrophied. So I removed myself from all this, starting to wander around the far corners of the castle and high floors, where on a day off, and even on a school day, students have nothing much to do.
Wandered, got bored, juggled existing knowledge of local magic with the edge of my consciousness, deepening understanding, which in itself resulted in a better idea of how to use this or that spell more effectively or even completely slightly differently. Stopping in the middle of one of the empty stone corridors and looking out the window, I chuckled—these reflections on the edge of consciousness reminded me of the cinematic effects of foreign studios, when at the moment of active brainstorming from the perspective of some genius protagonist, numbers, diagrams, symbols, and calculations begin to run around him.
And in this state I experienced slight boredom, and seeing out the window a group of girls making their way through the snow to the castle and whispering actively about something, I remembered the spiders, which, albeit in small quantities, are present in many important corners of the castle. Listening to my sensations, I caught signals from them that they, supposedly, are receiving sound information and are ready to unleash it on my consciousness at any moment. Why not?
"...and that hag thinks she's better..."
"...thinks he'll get something..."
"...Mudbloods have completely lost their fear nowadays."
"...do you think this suit has a good color?"
"...and how will he invite, and how will I refuse..."
The most varied conversations of the most varied students poured into my consciousness, but were clearly separated from my own thoughts, not particularly loading the brain. But the general essence of the conversations turned out to be not particularly interesting, quite appropriate for a school, and eavesdropping on gossip, talk, and hearsay was what I did in the end almost until evening.
Some girls discussed other girls or boys, built some of their own lists of top hotties and beauties, in which, of course, they put themselves above others. Boys discussed girls, building some of their own conjectures, proving to each other, like: "Yeah, she definitely did it because... Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."
Conversations about magic and sorcery were heard very rarely, and it is not surprising that this information was broadcast to me by spiders near the Ravenclaw tower.
Someone thought of getting someone drunk either for a joke or for quite understandable purposes, true, even among older students, conversations did not even metaphorically go beyond kissing, tactilely assessing the degree of femininity of the object of passion, or something similar. Of course, conversations slipped through either between guys or between girls about much more intimate things, but these were conversations of students from the sixth-seventh year, and they engaged in or planned to engage in "indecencies" outside the castle, in Hogsmeade, or by traveling by Floo to some pre-arranged place.
Why is that? If conversations are to be believed, and on the eve of the ball everyone was very excited about pistils, stamens, and levels of their interaction, then Susan's words that nothing but kisses and hugging can be realized in the castle are by no means empty words. The Ravens cited as an example an old, three-year-old experiment by a now-graduated couple in love. They purposefully tried to realize something more, but every Merlin-damned time something out of the ordinary happened, from banal "slipped, fell, woke up—cast" or the sudden appearance of some interfering factor, be it a ghost, a suddenly fallen wardrobe, and even the appearance of a teacher who himself did not understand why and for what reason he came here, to the complete disappearance of any attraction, health problems, or loss of consciousness.
In general, no other way than the Founders thoroughly cursed—in terms of mechanics of action, not negativity—their school so that teenagers living for almost ten months in a closed, essentially, boarding school would not turn it into a local branch of Sodom. Although, if one believes the fiction of the local magical community, and various simple anatomical and physiological reference books with a magical bias, then all this debauchery and obscenity is not so scary for a wizard. The mere fact of the presence of both contraceptive potions and various love potions, the apogee of which is Amortentia, speaks for itself.
From listening to various conversations, including on the topic of relationships, I suddenly became interested in this side of wizards' lives. I mean, how much does it differ from similar things among ordinary people? And I have already read a lot of different literature, and can draw some conclusions anyway. For example, loss of virginity. The Elf shard may not give me large-scale and full-fledged knowledge, but the attitude to certain issues of life changes, like from watching an educational film with reliable information. In general, I relate to the same loss of virginity in girls, as a concept, extremely negatively...
Two fifth-year girls walked down the corridor, batted their eyelashes, smiled, and passed by. Can't deny that such things tickle pride just a little, yes. But thoughts returned to the same maiden virginity, which is an ancient topic for discussion. Many men, and women too, due to various circumstances, starting from general lack of education in anatomy and physiology, to banal stereotypes or a sense of their own grandeur, believe that the first time must necessarily be... painful, and moreover, with blood, hymen ruptures, and other obscenities. Although strictly factually, such is by no means a "correct" result, and moreover—it is a banal injury to internal organs, if approached literally.
Moreover, with the proper approach to a girl, respectful and gentle, and even with preparation, any damage can be avoided altogether. Well, if the partner has something adequate between his legs, and not a log. And yet part of these prejudices came from ancient times, when besides the fact that the attitude towards women was not the best, only this was known about sex: "Push this thing there, children result," and some understanding of the subtleties of this process came when virginity was a long-forgotten dream. In general, even in the society of "advanced in all matters" ordinary people, complete bacchanalia reigns in this matter, mixed with illiteracy, stereotypes, templates, and generally... And generally!
I myself didn't notice how, in the process of my wanderings around the castle, I wandered onto the Astronomy Tower. Why not go up? Well, as they say, thought—did.
Opening the door to the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower, I immediately got a cool breeze in my face and a few snowflakes. Closer to the edge of the observation deck stood two girls in winter cloaks—Romanova and an unfamiliar Slytherin, judging by the scarf. They were clearly discussing something, simultaneously admiring the rather beautiful view of the snow-covered hills, mountains, forest, and the smooth surface of the lake, on which ice was only along the shores. Here are the victims of my interest, because the question I was thinking about still interests me, and I don't suffer from excessive modesty.
My appearance did not go unnoticed. They turned to me, and while Romanova smiled, the Slytherin didn't care.
"Ladies," I nodded and walked closer. "Nice weather, isn't it?"
"Indeed, Hector," Romanova did not burden herself with excessive formalities in communication, which was on the one hand unusual, and on the other, conversely, more habitual—a paradox due to the difference in realities of different lives. "Scotland lacks a real winter."
"That is so. The local winter looks like a sophisticated joke," I smiled, daring to address her by a shorter name than "Yekaterina." "Katya, won't you introduce us?"
"Study at the same school, and not acquainted? Maria Kuragina," Romanova pointed to the Slytherin. "Hector Granger."
"Glad to meet you," I nodded, since no one intended to shake hands or kiss them. "Somewhat surprised that someone with Russian roots studies with us."
"Nothing surprising," the Slytherin smiled politely, and a light breeze slightly shifted the hood of her cloak, revealing blonde hair. "Some families prefer to send their children to study far away for various reasons."
"Hesitate to ask, but isn't your family friends with the Dolohovs?" because the classics of past life suggest some thoughts.
"That is so. Surprising, Mr. Granger, that you have heard of this surname at all."
"How else, Miss Kuragina. Need to know the world around, and it, as is known, consists not of things, but of people."
"A wise remark..."
"Here go the English..." Romanova raised her eyes to the sky, can't say it otherwise.
"Want me to speak as it is? Without unnecessary formalities and tact?"
"Would be nice. You English pay too much attention to the formal side of communication. It is, of course, wonderful and beautiful, but only at first. Later it's already some kind of burden..." Romanova shrugged, the breeze brought snowflakes, and the girl put on the hood of her cloak, hiding a simple hairstyle of dark hair from the snow under it.
"Treat it as a game, it will be easier."
"I'll try. Here's what interests me," Romanova looked at me, squinting slightly. "When you came up here, you looked extremely thoughtful, and saw us, your eyes just lit up, or whatever is the right way to say it. Will you tell?"
"You asked, without lyrics, straight, right?"
"Right," Romanova nodded, and the Slytherin, Maria, pricked up her ears almost literally.
Hm, only now realized which "Mary" I sometimes heard conversations about—a talented spellweaver. So to speak, "from God," although in local realities it would be correct to say, "from Merlin."
"So, I wondered how they relate to sex in the magical world."
Silence, and the girls' faces began to turn red, and clearly not from the slight minus outside. Kuragina clearly wanted to be indignant, but Romanova decided to hide embarrassment behind a playful smile with notes of malice.
"Did you really succumb to the ball moods too? A-ah, naughty boy," Romanova accusedly poked me in the chest with a finger, but judging by her face, encountered unexpected consequences. "Hmm..."
Romanova poked with a finger. Well yes, there are muscles there and by no means soft, because I actively train, grow, build mass like on yeast thanks to abundant nutrition, training bracelet, and life energy. Due to the bracelet, by the way, muscles are generally always in increased tone, therefore not soft at all.
"...curious..."
Even though I only have a blue turtleneck under my robe, it is by no means thick, although very, very soft.
"Katya," Kuragina looked at Romanova reproachfully. "This is somewhat indecent."
"Who sees anyway," Romanova checked if I have abs, and judging by her face, she liked the result of the check. "Hector, are you not embarrassed at all?"
"There is a desire to remove your hand," I nodded, doing nothing. "But it's an instinct. Touching the stomach is a privilege of very close, trusted people."
"What are you, a dog?"
"The essence of instincts is the same," I shrugged. "Vulnerable place, after all."
"Pff," embarrassed Romanova removed her hand, pretending that she is a high-flying bird, and doesn't care about mere mortals. "Not interesting at all, you control yourself too well."
"And you expected a return check? And generally, we somehow moved away from the topic of conversation."
From behind light clouds, the sun appeared, but not for long, and the snow around the castle shone, hitting the eyes slightly. Evening soon, and then dinner isn't far... And how thoughts led me to dinner, considering the topic of conversation.
"Why ask us? How did you come to such a question at all? Is it really because of the ball?"
"It is worth noting," Maria drawled importantly, removing her hood and exposing her face to the almost non-warming sun, which floated winter-low above the horizon, "that many consider this ball an excellent opportunity to sharply advance in relationships."
"Honestly, conversations in the castle about relationships, who kissed whom, hugged, where, when, and among the older ones—who, with whom, when and where, but already in the horizontal plane, pushed me to this topic."
The girls began to blush again, but without trying to be indignant or check if I have abs.
"And generally, I noticed that the attitude towards many things among wizards is very different from that among ordinary people. Really towards many, from various trifles to global issues. But about the relationships of the sexes—not a word. Or from the point of view of information about the issue, is it like in the Soviet Union here—there is no sex?"
The girls looked at me with slight surprise.
"Not everyone knows this joke. My respects, Hector," Romanova nodded, smiling. "And is that all?"
"How could it be!" I feigned indignation. "I already said that I want to become a Healer and am stubbornly moving towards this goal?"
"I heard that somewhere..." Maria drawled, shifting her gaze to the surroundings.
"So. I read literature, reference books, a lot of things. There are just a bunch of different potions, charms, and spells, one way or another connected with this sphere of human life. Contraceptive potions, love potions of different stripes and strengths, all sorts of healing and not so much. Is it a joke—Rowan Draught after a girl's first night, and she's as good as new..."
"This is not spoken of in decent society," the finally embarrassed Kuragina was indignant, looking at me again with disapproval.
"Not spoken of, but everyone knows everything," Romanova smiled.
"Exactly," I nodded. "And that's far from all. Somewhere I read that there is a simple mental spell allowing viewing memories in a Pensieve from the first person..."
"Oh, don't continue," Romanova stopped me. "I understood what you mean."
"All these means, one way or another connected with the relationships between a man and a woman, only a clinical idiot won't make wonder—how are things really? I won't even mention Polyjuice Potion."
"Meaning?" here both looked at me with keen interest, although still embarrassed. Well, or not "still," but "again."
"Well, it allows a full transformation from one person to another, including a specimen of the opposite sex..."
"Specimen, hmm," Romanova crossed her arms under her chest. "You treat people well."
"Saying it like it is. So. Imagine for a second that two girlfriends liked the same guy, man, doesn't matter. Stole his hair, threw it into the potion, and taking turns..."
"Don't, stop-stop," Maria stretched out her hands in a defensive gesture, stopping me from continuing the thought.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"Oh, no," Romanova's smirk stretched almost to her ears. "You are breaking the psyche of a girl accustomed to communicating formally, and with boys, and even on such topics, courteously."
"It's just generally beyond the bounds of decency to talk about such things! I..."
"Leaving?"
"No!"
"And rightly so," Romanova nodded to her friend. "A young man out of purely cognitive goals is interested in such a ticklish topic from us, older girls, who will not run away in embarrassment, but also won't punch in the face."
"So what about my question?"
"How to say it succinctly, correctly, but not turn into a lecture?" Romanova thought, and Kuragina exhaled, as if diving into an abyss, breaking the wall of upbringing.
"Sex exists, almost no prejudices," Maria began to speak quickly, looking anywhere but at me, "virginity has long not been valued, but before coming of age all this—is considered indecent and characterizes you as a weak mage. Phew..."
"Unexpected determination," Romanova patted her friend on the shoulder "brotherly," causing her to be embarrassed. "But on the whole, it is so. If they find out, of course. An excuse can be extremely great love or early engagement, which is very rare."
"Engagement is rare?" I was considerably surprised.
"Previously—no," Romanova nodded importantly, and Kuragina clearly agreed with her, although I don't know yet in what exactly. "Once the same virginity was very valuable, around it, the first time and marriage, when a wife was obliged to be a maiden, almost a whole religion was built."
"And now?"
"Even English traditionalists waved their hand at this about three hundred years ago," Kuragina spoke. "As it turned out during various studies, it simply makes no sense. At all. And wizards, let it be known to you, are capable of being very practical if it benefits us."
"That is not always noticeable," I doubted the words, causing slight indignation in the eyes of both girls.
"Well then you need to live in the magical world, and not just come here 'to study'," Kuragina threw with a challenge.
"Hush, hush," Romanova calmed her friend in a joking tone, patting her on the head, which caused an even more violent reaction—Maria puffed up almost like a hamster, but remembering that I was also standing here, returned a more or less neutral expression to her face.
The sun hid behind the clouds again, a cool wind blew, tearing snowflakes in waves from the Astronomy Tower platform and throwing them into our faces.
"Maybe we should go inside?" I suggested leaving this place, although the view of the snowy Scottish expanses was truly beautiful.
"Not worth it," Romanova shook her head. "Even walls have ears. Here at least charms against eavesdropping work normally."
"I didn't even notice them, honestly."
"Father's personal development," Romanova smiled and looked at Kuragina. "So what about marriage and virginity?"
"You know yourself."
"Just continuing the topic."
"Now, for some three hundred years already, if a maiden gets married, it's something like good form. But not necessary. But if a woman is about twenty-five, and she is still a maiden—a reason to wonder: 'What's the catch?'."
I couldn't help but chuckle, and the girls too.
"Never thought I would talk about such things with a guy," Romanova smiled. "It even somehow... excites. You could at least be embarrassed for appearance's sake."
"I shoveled through a bunch of literature on anatomy and physiology, parents are doctors, and in the ordinary world all this is not a secret. But strictly speaking, I just control myself well, not allowing fantasies about the 'horizontal plane' to occupy too much space in my head."
"That's why you are a strong wizard," Romanova nodded importantly, and her friend agreed with this. "A wizard's strength is in our head, in our consciousness. A strong consciousness is less subject to instincts and natural aspirations. Of course, one can purposefully take care of this. But if a strong wizard consciously does not seek bed pleasures, then such fantasies do not pop up in the head by themselves."
"Hmm... Need to check," I nodded, looked over Romanova's figure under the cloak and connected fantasy to this matter.
This very fantasy, along with high brain activity and the ability to visualize everything perfectly, drew strikingly clear pictures of what, how and under what circumstances can be done with this athletic and flexible girl with my long arms. Even the lighting and color of bed linen for the most harmonious atmosphere was selected by my consciousness.
Romanova was embarrassed, seeing my gaze and the smirk that had crept out, and Kuragina giggled quietly into her fist. A moment, and I drove the color from my own face, completely returning self-control.
"Amazing thing," I admired the tricks of my own consciousness.
"Did someone realize he's a big boy?"
"Yes, Katya, realized. Didn't think about such things before. Would have lived life without noticing the catch."
"That's excellent. And now," Romanova took me by the shoulders, turned me around and pushed me towards the exit. "Onward and with a song, to conquer women's hearts. And we need to talk privately, because you interrupted us."
"Oh, apologies," I turned around, moving towards the exit from the observation deck. "Are you going to the ball?"
"Naturally! It would be stupid—to come here, and not go to the ball."
Nodding, I left the platform and headed to the common room. The conversation with the girls relieved me of boredom, and the desire to waste time vanished as if by magic.
. . . . . .
Two girls in hooded cloaks waited until Granger left the observation deck. As soon as the door closed behind him, and the eavesdropping charms let Kuragina know—after all, she had set them—that no one would hear anything, the girl cast aside all restraint, speaking in her native language:
"What an insolent one!" she waved her hand, sending a not fully formed clot of Air Fist into the wall.
A dull sound rang out, as if something viscous had burst, and all the snow was scattered from the point of impact of the clot with the wall.
"Scoundrel! Oaf! Bastard!" each word was accompanied by throwing an Air Fist at the wall. "What a..."
"Handsome guy?"
"Yes! No!" Maria turned to her smirking friend, exhaled, cooled down. "Sorry. It's just that... No, well, to throw one off balance like that? And could have at least been shy. To approach and ask so brazenly at his fourteen years us, decent girls, and about sex? If it weren't so obvious that the question had no other subtext—I would have cursed him..."
"Wouldn't have worked," Romanova shook her head. "I duelled with him when we arrived. He held back, like me, it was a draw. But you can try."
"Really? I thought they were blatantly lying. And if you hadn't held back?"
"Then he wouldn't have held back either. Probably would have won. The point is different. Information reached me that after several of our duels, he found out about a couple of spells, about the idea of how one should generally press quickly, powerfully, and effectively. A month, and his Stupefy became instant, although in the club he showed only a simply quick spell."
"Wow... And they also say that he and his groupmates learned the Patronus last year, and he forced them."
"Would like to say that it's hard to believe, but it is believable, damn it."
The playfulness in Romanova's gaze disappeared, giving way to light sadness and sorrow.
"Did something happen, Katya?"
"Well, how to tell you," Romanova wrapped herself in her cloak, shifting her gaze to the snow-white mountain peaks. "We were notified about the Tournament in advance. In August I thought, I'll come here... They won't let me participate in the Tournament..."
"Karkaroff?"
"Yeah. Piece of shit. If not for his connections, he wouldn't have been allowed near the post of Headmaster within a cannon shot. So he also pushed through the idea of nominating a single candidate. Forces Krum as best he can. Thinks he'll ride far on his back, Headmaster, you see, mentor, all that stuff. Everyone knows he's a Death Eater, a traitor, and a cowardly rat. I'll be surprised if someone from the free and loyal to the local Dark Lord doesn't knife him towards the end of the event."
"And I thought, how did you not become the champion? You'd be stronger than your crooked-nosed clubfoot," Kuragina's words oozed with malice and venom towards Krum.
Many interested in the level of certain wizards know that Krum is the Bulgarian version of Potter, only with much tougher drilling and discipline. A dozen spells of "above average" level, athletic training, skills of a natural flyer, and a sea of advertising.
"You didn't finish the thought."
"Yes? Indeed," Romanova nodded, continuing to look at the mountains. "Since they won't let me participate in the Tournament anyway, I thought I'd at least dig in the best library in Europe, and start an affair with some handsome guy."
"Oh, an affair," Maria smirked. "Schemer, damn. You are definitely not one of those who think with, excuse me, pus..."
"Don't make it vulgar," Romanova interrupted her, smiling. "Consciously, choosing, with feeling, sense, arrangement. And here handsome guys—are few and far between. And an adequate handsome guy, and even strong, turned out to be a small boy in general."
"Not so small," Kuragina stood next to her friend, also looking at the mountains.
"I mean age. Well, couldn't he be of age, eh?"
"And other guys? Of suitable age?"
"Pleasant on the outside, scary on the inside."
"Really?"
"Oh, Mashka, as if you have a different opinion," Romanova grimaced. "Your Slytherins—vile nationalists and chauvinists, to whom everyone owes, and girls generally—are obliged. Not all, of course, but many. Disgusting even to let such near oneself. Your Lions—just idiots. Kindergarten, pants on straps. Ravens—that's a clinic generally. Badgers—don't know what they want themselves, and I'm not only talking about relationships."
"You exaggerate, Katya, but on the whole—true. And Hector, Muggle-born, by the way, caught your eye?"
"Show me the one whose eye he didn't catch," Romanova smirked, turning to her friend. "What do you think yourself?"
"I think... Here, in England, if he were pureblood, then... You know the jokes about Rzhevsky?"
"Who doesn't know them," Romanova shrugged.
"So. If Hector were pureblood, he would never get hit in the face, only..."
"Pff-f-f," Romanova tried to restrain herself, but decided not to, because it wasn't just anyone nearby, but a friend. "Hahaha... And indeed true."
"That's what I'm talking about. And believe me, very, very many pureblood girls will agree with me."
"Should I tell him what you think?"
"What if he gets upset?"
"He'll definitely get upset," Romanova smirked. "Wonder if that French Veela thinks so too? Maybe she'll process him at the ball?"
"Can she?"
"Why not? Judge for yourself. Veelas—natural selectionists. Take only the best from the father, giving birth only and exclusively to good offspring with great potential. Hector—a very strong wizard and at his age."
"Consider that according to known information, he has consciously lived only a year and a half. Was sick. Not in body."
"Oh how," Romanova was surprised. "Well, imagine how valuable he might be for a Veela as a father of offspring. Such potential for brain development, which without options will be passed on to the Veela's children—one can spit on public opinion, morality, and principles, drag into bed on a permanent basis, and that's it."
"And not afraid that he, they say, is building a relationship with Greengrass?"
"Come on, tell me about the prospects of marriage between a Muggle-born and a pureblood from the local privileged caste," her words oozed with contempt, like cobra teeth with venom. "They'll grow up, and be lovers—maximum. And Greengrass will have a marriage with whom it is profitable, not for love. Or did Mage-England believe in Christian values?"
"Yeah, twice. And there are rumors about Greengrass that the elder is already planned where to place. In prospect—the Notts. So they can get part of their production, establish contacts, and so on. And yes, since you liked him, why an affair? Snare him permanently. He is Muggle-born—what difference does it make where to go? It will be crappy everywhere, but here—almost the worst of all. Only Africa and Japan are probably worse. And in MACUSA countries there is only a democratic screen."
"I want an affair, not to get married. Romance of another country, secret meetings, fleeting glances..."
"And I was already afraid that you had become stupid and started thinking not with your head at all."
"Haven't been rolled on the platform for a long time? Eh?" Romanova jokingly attacked her friend.
"Alright, alright, realized, guilty!" Maria raised her hands up. "Let's go already, schemer, dinner is soon."
"Let's go..."
The girls turned around and headed for the exit from the observation deck.
"And at the ball, need to look after Hector," Romanova nodded importantly. "If anything—pluck the chicken."
"Hm. Dog in the manger?"
"The meaning of the phrase is slightly different, but yes, close."
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